Out in the Middle of Nowhere: The erosion of trust.

Do you remember when you thought your parents were infallible, they knew everything and that they were perfect? You love them, trust them. They could not possibly ever lie to you or purposely hurt you, right? Being totally dependent on them, these perceptions give you a sense of safety and protection from the outside world. What happens when much of what you believe to be true turns out to be a lie?

My life has been a roller-coaster experience. It started in my childhood where I was not allowed to express feelings. I was told that I was too emotional, sensitive. Because I was the eldest daughter, I had to take on responsibilities not normally placed on children. My mother's English was poor during my school years. It became my job to deal with adults on the phone, write business letters and manage the household while my mother occasionally went to work at our family's place of business. She kept the books for for my dad's automotive repair shop. I also sewed a lot of my mother's clothes. No small feat since the alterations were a bit of a challenge.

I also became my mother's confidant. Because she didn't want anyone to know what was going on in our family, including her sisters, I became her best friend. She had no close girlfriends to vent to. My dad was abusive and my mom would complain about him to me. Overtime, I began to despise my dad, not even talking to him. Things got progressively worse as by dad took his frustrations and anger out on us children, especially myself and my younger brother. 

I remember one incident when I was still in Junior High. I had gotten a new wool car-coat to wear for the winter. It was dark grey, double breasted with silver buttons, it had a hood and belt with red embroidery on the edges and belt. It reminded me of a Russian design.  I was very proud of that coat as it was brand new, not the usual hand-me-down, and it was in fashion. 

Our family and two other families related to us, went for a walk in early spring when the ground was still covered with deep wet snow. The adults decided to descend a steep ski hill in a park near the river valley. I found the ground to be slippery, as I wasn't prepared with proper winter boots, and I was nervous about falling.

Two thirds of the way down the hill, sure enough, I slipped and fell. The whole backside of my coat was wet and mud encrusted. I was very upset and became angry about my new cost being ruined. I started to mutter under my breath, " Stupid idiots, had to walk down this hill." Unfortunately, my dad somehow heard what I said and turned around and yelled at me, "What did you say?" By the look on his face, my first instinct was to run. He eventually caught up to me and backhanded me so hard in the face, I saw stars in front of my eyes. I started to sob, in pain with my nose gushing with blood,  wet and freezing in my soaked coat. By then it was dark. My dad ordered my relatives to load up into their cars and leave. I stared in disbelief as the cars disappeared and I was left alone in the middle of nowhere. If there hadn't been some street lights in the distance I wouldn't have been able to see where I was going.

I trudged through the snow toward the lights, for what seemed like an eternity, shivering and sobbing uncontrollably. All I could think about was that I would be abducted and murdered and then everyone would be sorry. I was several km from home and had no idea how to get there.

Eventually, I saw some vehicle lights coming towards me, which freaked me out at first. I had reached the road by then, which ascended a big hill out of the river valley. It was one of my aunt and uncles who had come back to find me and take me home. I was relieved to be rescued, but did not want to go back and face my dad. We sat in their car in front of our house for a very long time, my aunt and uncle trying to convince me to go in. When I realized I had no choice, I did eventually, but I was shaking from head to toe with a mixture of fear and anger.

When I got in the house, no one said a word. My dad never mentioned the incident, nor my mom. It was like nothing had happened. For weeks afterwards, I would get a bloody nose at school. Years later, I noticed that my nose was off to one side in photos that had been taken after my dad had hit me. I am pretty sure he broke it. 

It wasn't until 1994, almost 30 years later. that I confronted my dad about what he had done. He said he did not remember, but said that he was sorry if he had done it. What hurt the most, was the fact that my mom never protected me from abuse from my father. It was almost as if it was better that it was me than her, to be the object of his rage. 

That traumatic event, and others, haunted me for years. I grew up afraid of my dad, actually hating him, and not quite trusting my mom. I avoiding dating at all costs, was extremely shy and secretly defiant of authority. Once I graduated from high school, I found a way to get away from my over-controlling parents, as fast and far away as possible. Unfortunately, my troubles didn't end there. 

This is the last blog where I examine my childhood. I have forgiven both my parents for mistakes they have made, otherwise I could not look after them as a full time caregiver now that they are elderly. I love and respect them and know they did the best they could at the time. They helped me through some difficult periods during my adulthood and now it is my turn to look after their them. Sadly, my dad passed four years after I first wrote this blog, but did not publish it. Unfortunately, he never did overcome his own childhood trauma.

However abusive your childhood experiences may have been, put the past behind so that you can move forward.

Do not pass the abuse cycle on to future generations. It isn't easy, but you have a choice in how your past effects your current life. You aren't alone, you can get help. Call on Jesus, pray that the Holy Spirit can transform you. Ask forgiveness for past mistakes from God and the people you have harmed.